


(although it’s always crowded) you still can find some room

by Toft



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fuckbuddies, Harold being a creeper, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pegging, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toft/pseuds/Toft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harold invited her for a drink Zoe had the feeling he was setting up John for some R&R, so she brought some toys along.</p>
<p>Set after 'Booked Solid'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(although it’s always crowded) you still can find some room

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Isagel for the encouragement! Unbetaed, pure id.

Zoe likes fucking John. The man has almost no ego, pretty rare in a good-looking, athletic white guy. He’s perfectly happy - eager, even - to be told exactly what to do, and he’s so easy to please; scratch him behind the ears and tell him he’s pretty, let him come at some point, and he looks at her like she’s the best thing since sliced bread, or C4, or whatever it is he likes. It’s a great stress reliever, when Harold lets him out to play for the evening. She doesn’t envy Harold, truth be told. It would be too much responsibility for her to have John on a leash full-time. But having John look up at her through those eyelashes and say “Ma’am?” every once in a while is a nice reward after a long day’s work.

Which is why, when he pitches the offer of a night with him in the penthouse suite of the Corona (now under new management), she’s inclined to take him up on it, even though she’s tempted to give him an incentive to improve his flirtation skills. Besides, when Harold invited her for a drink she had the feeling he was setting up John for some R&R, so she brought some toys along.

Fucking into him, later, his face pressed into the mattress and his ass in the air for her, she’s delighted when she hits a good spot and he moans out loud. He’s a quiet guy, usually - that’s the military for you, she guesses - but he _likes_ this, really likes it. She wonders if he’s done it before, but she doesn’t ask; she doesn’t encourage John to open up to her. Not in that way, anyway. She is not interested in taking on _that_ hot mess, not without an hourly rate. Right now she’s already come once with John’s mouth on her clit, so she’s feeling generous, but she also has a couple of G&T’s in her and wants to mess with his smug composure a little.

“Harold never do this to you?” she murmurs, just to tease him; he covers it well, but there’s just a second when she feels his back muscles stiffen under her hands. He hesitates too long. “Poor baby,” she says, with ironic sympathy. “Maybe you should ask him nicely.”

“Let it go, Zoe,” he rasps, and she does. For about a minute, which she dedicates to loosening him up so some more. He works hard to take what she gives him, so eager to please.

“Oh, you sweet man,” she purrs, as she gets some friction against her clit and pumps her hips against him. She can skip her Pilates class tomorrow, that’s for sure. John has his cheek turned sideways against the sheets, panting underneath her, eyes closed. “What a good boy.”

John groans. Desperate need for praise, check.

Caught by a wicked impulse, she says, “Do you think he’s listening right now?”

This time he moans, his voice cracking, and turns his face so she can’t see it. Oh, _interesting_. “Did you know Fowler used to have a blackmail video setup in this room? Do you think it’s still here?”

She knows perfectly well that it isn’t, but John likes that idea a lot. He’s shivering, and it’s really doing things for her. She leans down close to his ear, the one with the earpiece in.

He feels wonderful under her, all coiled-up power, like an expensive car, and pushing his buttons is just like revving the engine.

“Are you still in the hotel, Harold? Maybe you ought to come up here and enjoy the show close-up. I think John might like that.”

 She’s leaning in so close that she catches the little noise he makes at that too, like a sob at the back of his throat.

 “Shh,” she says, unexpectedly moved, and also, for the first time, concerned she might be straying out of her depth. “Oh, honey. It’s okay. Relax for me.” She kisses the back of his neck, and he breathes out slowly. Then he stiffens again and goes absolutely still, so much that Zoe has to freeze to avoid hurting him.

 “ _Harold_ ,” John croaks. Zoe isn’t exactly surprised that he really was listening, but she is a little put out to find herself in the middle of a soap opera when she only wanted a good fuck. On the other hand, maybe it’s time she thanked Harold for the generous loan of John by giving him a shove in the other direction.

 *

John never takes the earpiece out, and Zoe doesn’t make him. She finds the idea of Harold listening in amusing, and a little titillating; she likes him, with his fancy suits, his politeness and his apparently genuine desire to help people, and she appreciates that every so often, like tonight, he gives John a discreet but firm shove in her direction. The time she met the two of them working a job in the Corona, before Harold bought the damn place, she had a drink with them at the bar after, and when John left to go to the little boy’s room, she caught Harold, two scotches in, watching his (very nice) ass on the way out. He was careful about it - he was using the mirrored bar - but she knows a lot of alcoholics and she’s never seen a man stare at a row of liquor bottles with such longing, and she suddenly felt sorry for the guy.

“He’d do anything you asked, you know,” she said, about as gently as she ever gets.

To do him credit, although he went a little red, he didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about.

“I know,” he said. “You must appreciate that it makes my situation ethically… sticky.”

“Moral ambiguity doesn’t usually seem to bother you,” she said, finished her drink, and checked her watch. Nearly time for her call to LA.

“He trusts me,” Harold said, staring into the bottom of his tumbler. “His trust has been abused too often for me to take advantage.”

“You’re a nice guy, Harold,” Zoe said, and patted him on the shoulder. “Nice guys finish last.”

Harold snorted.

“Always a pleasure, Ms Morgan. I hope your business in Los Angeles goes well.”

Zoe didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding to that, but she changed phones the next day.

*

“Zoe, do you mean it? He says, do you mean it?” John sounds more urgent than he did when he was facing down a hit squad.

“Of course,” she says, stroking his back. What the hell, she thinks. It won’t exactly be a hardship.

“Come on up,” John rasps. “Yeah, come on, Harold.”

The tap at the door comes hilariously quickly. John twitches, but Zoe doesn’t let him up.

“Let yourself in,” Zoe murmurs into his earpiece, and she hears the click of the door. She enjoys the sight of Harold taking in the tableau of them, naked, the harness around Zoe’s hips, John sweaty and wrecked beneath her.

“Goodness,” Harold says. He swallows visibly. He’s wearing a hotel bathrobe over pajamas, which don’t do much to conceal how turned on he is. His cheeks are flushed pink. “The audio alone doesn’t really do you justice.”

Zoe kind of likes how he doesn’t even apologize for spying on her; full-spectrum surveillance is the cost of doing business with him, and John is his business. Currently, however, Zoe has the upper hand.

“Come over here and give your boy some attention,” she says, and smiles when she feels John shudder against her. “You’ve been neglecting him.”

Harold looks stricken at that. He limps across the room and kneels awkwardly at John’s side. “Have I, John?”

He strokes John’s hair and kisses his forehead, his cheek, and John _melts_ between them, so that she actually slides in another half-inch without even trying for it at the same moment that Harold kisses his mouth. John moans, obviously wanting to curl up around Harold and grind up against her at the same time, and Zoe tries not to laugh.

Harold, always polite, breaks away from John to look up at her. His cheeks are pink and his hair is mussed up - it’s a good look on him.

“This is extremely generous of you, Ms - may I call you Zoe?”

“I think you should, Harold,” she grins. “You going to watch, or do you want to join us?”

Harold hesitates, visibly torn, even though he’s already committed himself just by coming up here. Zoe bends down towards John’s ear again, running her hands up and down his heaving sides as she watches Harold’s face. “John, do you want to suck his cock while I fuck you?”

Harold’s eyes flutter closed as John groans softly. He’s been bracing himself against the mattress for Zoe’s thrusts, but he manages to get a hand free and grabs Harold’s arm when he seems to be pulling away.

“Please,” John says, his voice thick.

Harold meets her eyes with a hopeless look, and she raises her eyebrows. _Come on, Harold. You’re only human_.

She fucks John a little to keep him distracted while Harold undresses, because she can tell Harold is self-conscious; he folds his robe carefully onto the chair, and hesitates over the neat little buttons of his pajama shirt.

“Keep the shirt on if you like,” she says kindly. “I think you’ve made him wait long enough. Get on the damn bed.”

That stings him, obviously, and he goes for a compromise, shirt unbuttoned but still on. He does take off his pants, though. As soon as he gets up on the bed and settled in a comfortable position, John jerks over to get his head in Harold’s lap and his mouth on his dick, sloppy and desperate in a way that cuts at her heart a little. Harold is quiet too, in his own way, all stuttering breath and whispered endearments that aren’t meant for her, but at the same time he doesn’t shut her out; he runs his fingers through John’s hair and, when he can keep his eyes from closing, watches her work herself on the harness and fuck John, loving the way his co-ordination falls to pieces as she gets him at a good angle and Harold pets him and whispers sweet things to him. John moans wetly around Harold’s cock like he’s never had it so good, and she’s got to admit, it’s one of the hottest things she’s ever seen.

“Does that thing have a vibrator?” Harold says suddenly.

“It sure does,” Zoe says. “Harold, I like the way you think.”

“John, is that okay?” Harold says, stroking his cheek, and John _mmhmm’s_ around his dick, obviously in heaven. When Zoe reaches down and turns on the vibrator, though, it sends a jolt through John, and he pulls off Harold’s dick with a gasp, presses his face into Harold’s thigh and cries out, coming around her without a touch.

“Oh _God,_ ” Harold says, completely losing his composure. John, after three or four gulping breaths, sucks his dick back down immediately. Zoe’s glad Harold is getting to enjoy one of the nicer features of John in bed - he’s very task-oriented. She herself is enjoying the vibrator a _lot_ , and she’s too busy working herself to an orgasm to notice when Harold gets off, but she does notice the breathy sounds John makes around his mouthful as she finishes pounding him, the vibrator merciless inside him.

“Fuck,” she breathes, and comes hard, bucking against him a few last times before she abruptly becomes too sensitive and has to turn off the vibration. John flops sideways onto the mattress when she pulls out of him, the least graceful she has ever seen him, and it makes her laugh. She smacks his asscheek, and he grunts, but doesn’t budge. Harold is half sprawled against the head of the bed, breathing hard, his face shiny. He still has one hand curled in John’s hair, possessive, and John has draped one arm across his thighs like a seatbelt. Harold is clearly going nowhere fast. Luckily, this bed is big enough that she doesn’t mind sharing it, at least in the short-term. She feels great, energized and pleasantly tired.

“This is the nicer kind of sticky, wouldn’t you agree, Harold?” she says, looking up at him upside-down. He gives her a surprisingly sweet smile.

“You’re very good at what you do.”

“I am,” she agrees. He looks down at John’s head pillowed on his thigh, something complicated and tender in his face, and mouths _thank you_ at her. She rolls her eyes, and goes to take a shower.


End file.
